


Fire and Water

by bwayfan25



Category: The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: F/M, I'm sorry I never do this but I couldn't help myself, Modern AU, hospital au, human!asset
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayfan25/pseuds/bwayfan25
Summary: A terrible fire in at the local chocolate factory has caused stress at the Occam Hospital, specifically to the support staff that work there. Elisa Esposito, a lowly pharmacy technician, makes her nightly rounds delivering medicine just as a mysterious, unidentifiable patient is brought in from the flames. Will she and her fellow hospital workers be able to do what it takes to save him? Modern hospital AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely, if ever, write Modern AUs for period pieces. Usually, the periods in which they are set are the most perfect for the story being told, and Shape of Water is no exception. I love it with my whole heart and it is perfect, and the story told within that time period is a big part of that.  
> However, I'm also physically incapable of not creating a Pharmacy AU for absolutely everything I write. Either something is set in a pharmacy, a character works there, etc. I'm sorry. I've worked in a pharmacy for so long it's part of my identity. Anyways, I was already starting to make this up in my head, but it wasn't going anywhere because I didn't know how to fit certain pieces in. Then my roommate showed me this article about this one experimental technique... and this started writing itself. And trust me... it will all make sense eventually. Or at least that's the goal.  
> As always, I appreciate your kudos and your comments. I especially am curious to hear your thoughts on this...

Elisa Esposito scribbled down a few numbers on her little scrap of paper. They were running low on some of the blood pressure medicines that filled their machine. She’d need to make sure that was put on their order.

She turned away from the massive pill counting machine and made her way back to her computer. The order was always her first task of the night. The daytime technicians  _ should _ do it before they leave every day, but what started as an accident turned into a habit when she caught the mistake and they faced no punishment for forgetting about it. 

As soon as the order was sent off, Elisa readied herself for her main task of the night- filling the medicine carts. Several stood empty, returned by the daytime techs, that required preparation for the night time rounds.

Elisa set to work, matching required medications with patient carts. She scanned each label, then the bottle of pills, before counting them out and sending them in a plastic tote down to the night pharmacist Yolanda, who checked each and every one.

“They’re all ready,” she said, more at Elisa than to her. “Take them up and do it quickly. There was a bad fire today and upstairs has been really busy. They’re already sending in more new prescriptions than they usually would.”

Elisa nodded and loaded the completed prescriptions into the cart. Yolanda didn’t bother to hold the door open for her, even as she left to use the bathroom. 

She had been right though- the upstairs emergency room was far busier than it usually would be around this time, and it wasn’t even a full moon.

Tons of people sat in the cramped space while even more stood around. Not many looked like they were hurt or anything, more so just nervous or panicked. Elisa could barely squeeze her cart through, and as she couldn’t ask them to move in any way they wouldn’t perceive as rude, she got many dirty looks as she waved them out of the way and pushed through to the other side.

_ Of course  _ now _ they notice me _ , she thought angrily.  _ I’ve got too much to do and now they’re going to complain about me. This is just wonderful. _

Elisa silently cursed the hospital for embroidering her name under left breast pocket of her scrubs as she pushed the cart through the double doors and down into the intensive care unit.

“Elisa!” a familiar voice called out as she pushed the cart down the hall.

Immediately, Elisa slowed to a halt as a black nurse in blue-green scrubs caught up with her.

“I was wondering when I was going to see you come round,” Zelda Fuller said as the pair started moving forward again. “It has been a real mess. First off, these new so-called ‘supportive’ shoes I bought haven’t done a damn thing in stopping my feet from hurting and I won’t be able to take ‘em back to the store because I have to wear ‘em for another ten hours.”

Zelda shook her head as she checked her chart and stopped outside a bed currently closed off in the ward by a large curtain. Elisa checked her chart as well, and made to open the curtain but Zelda wasn’t done talking.

“And the other thing is this big fire. You hear about it?”

Elisa nodded, but gave a so-so gesture.

_ Yolanda mentioned a fire, but I don’t know anymore _ , she signed.

“It’s the chocolate factory. Over in your neighborhood, now that I think about it,” Zelda added with a pause, before continuing. “Anyways. The building caught on fire and a bunch of the workers had to be brought here to be treated. Some are okay and some, like this guy in here, are really bad. But all those people out in the waiting room weren’t even anywhere near it. No, they’re here because the news said something about the fire being started by chemicals and now everyone and their brother think they ingested some kind of poison and they’re gonna die.”

Zelda and Elisa both rolled their eyes. The local newscasters were more likely than anyone else to cause a city panic, but they never had to deal with the outcome.

Zelda shook her head once more and slowly pushed open the curtain to walk in. She held it open as Elisa followed behind her with the medicine cart in tow before closing it again

“This guy got hurt real bad,” Zelda said, her voice so low Elisa had to strain to hear it. “One of the workers on the factory floor.”

Elisa parked her cart and stepped cautiously closer to the bandaged person in the bed. Nothing about him could be seen as he was bandaged from head to toe. The monitor in the corner showed a slow but steady heartbeat, though otherwise he seemed unresponsive.

“He hasn’t even gone into surgery yet,” Zelda said softly. “Because no one here is good enough; he’s too fragile for them. They’re flying in some burn specialist, a cosmetic surgeon from Galveston to work on him. Diane told us he just got on the plane, so he should be here by early morning.”

Elisa just stared, her brow furrowing the longer she looked at the patient. Eventually she had to turn away, returning to the cart to busy herself with retrieving the necessary medicine.

“I can’t imagine how much pain he must be in,” Zelda said finally. “They gave him some heavy stuff to put him to sleep, but- well, he’ll have to wake up sometime. EMTs that brought him in said where he was the fire was so hot, the only thing they had to identify him was a half-melted ID tag. Can’t recognize his face or anything. All they know is his first name. Rhonda at the nurse’s station has been on the phone for an hour trying to get the factory’s corporate office on the phone and see if they can identify him that way, but they are a little preoccupied right now to pick up it seems.”

Elisa nodded, and scanned the barcode on the chart at the foot of the bed and then the matching barcode on the cart. She retrieved the two prepared IV bags and handed them to Zelda, who hooked them up.

Zelda said something else Elisa wasn’t listening to, and then left. Elisa indicated that she still had something to do with the cart, and hung back.

She continued to just stand there, looking at this unidentifiable figure in the bed. 

She could not see him at all, only the thick gauze that protected him. All she knew was that he was hurt, and something she couldn’t explain was telling her that she was supposed to take care of him.

As she lifted the chart once more to sign off on the medication delivery, her eyes passed over the rather-empty section at the top for personal information. They lingered on the one word typed there.

_ Charlie _


	2. Chapter 2

Dimitri had assumed, incorrectly it seemed, that the hospital would be providing him transportation from the airport. This was not the case, he realized, as he touched down in Baltimore and switched his phone from airplane mode to find no emails, calls, or messages of any kind indicating he plan upon arrival. 

This left him with the uncomfortable situation of having to take an Uber.

The older gentleman who gave him a ride was nice enough, but he kept a running monologue the entire ride. Dimitri, half-jetlagged and completely unsure of what Americans did in this kind of situation, just nodded politely when the man stopped for breath in between discussion of his cats and his artwork.

After the longest twenty-seven minutes in his life, the man dropped him off at the front of Occam Memorial Hospital. It was a grey, foreboding looking building. 

His overnight bag in one hand and briefcase in the other, Dimitri made his way in through the double doors and to the nurse’s station.

“We’re so happy to have you here, sir,” Dr. Fleming greeted. He had flown through the doors almost the moment the nurse paged him. “I’m Dr. Fleming, uh, one of the attendings here. In the ICU.”

“I read on your website that a Dr. Fleming was the interim Chief of Medicine,” Dimitri said suspiciously as he took the man’s offered hand. “Is that you?”

“Well, yes,” Fleming said as he wiped his brow nervously. “However, the interim position is no longer required seeing as we just got the new Chief of Medicine, well, about three weeks ago.”

“Ah,” Dimitri nodded. “Best update your site then.”

“Of course.”

“So, shall I set my things down? I’d like to see the patient at least once before the morning. I  _ was _ called here urgently after all.”

“Well, yes,” Fleming began. “However, the Chief would like the chance to talk with you first. Before visiting the patient.”

Dimitri nodded before Fleming led him down the the hall and up the elevator to the executive suite. 

Inside what must be the largest office was a middle-aged white man in a white coat. He stood above, hands flat on the surface of the desk as he flipped through papers in front of him. As Fleming introduced Dimitri (or rather Dimitri’s alternate identity Dr. Robert Hoffstetler), he couldn’t help but notice how the man’s grin didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Bob- can I call you Bob?” the man said as he shook Dimitri’s, his eyes hard though his tone was jovial. “Richard Strickland. Chief of Medicine. Glad to have you.”

“Happy to be here and happy to meet you,” Dimitri said in a dry tone he hoped came across as tired and not rude. “Shall I see to the patient now?”

“Of course, of course,” Strickland said, waving him away. “In a minute. Gotta get you on board here first. Then we’ll get you down to see him. Don’t worry about rushing. He’s stable and, well, let’s just say he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Dimitri grimaced as Strickland let out a laugh at the expense of his patient.

“Relax, I’m only kidding,” Strickland said as soon as he saw the look on Dimitri’s face. “I’ll get you down there in one minute. I just want to discuss some stuff for a moment. Fleming. If you’ll give us the room.”

Fleming, who so far Dimitri had forgotten was still in the room, said something quickly about being needed elsewhere and slid out the door, leaving him and Strickland alone.

“Candy?” Strickland offered, pulling a box of bright green hard candy out of his coat pocket and taking one for himself before offering it to Dimitri, who declined. “So. Galveston, eh? University of Texas Medical Branch is there, right?”

“Yes, sir. I was offered a rather generous grant to further my studies there. Regarding treatments of severe burns. Treatments I should probably consider for the patient who needs my attention-”

“Yeah. I’ve been reading through some of your stuff,” Strickland said, cutting him off. “It’s, uh, what’s the word I’m looking for…”

“Cutting edge?” Dimitri offered. 

“Experimental,” Strickland finished. “ _ Expensive _ and experimental.”

Dimitri stopped himself from scoffing. 

Of course, a Chief of Medicine would think of money first and patient care second. His surgical technique, which he had brought to the US from Brazil, was… different, than many American specialists were comfortable with, but the results spoke for themselves.

“I hardly think cost should prohibit a patient who has been through a great deal of trauma from receiving care that could greatly improve their clinical outcomes, not to mention their quality of life.”

“I know the argument. The guy they brought me in to replace, the last Chief of Medicine, he had that thought process too. And, sure, his patients had good outcomes, but at the end of the day, his job was to keep the hospital open. The bottom line is what we’re supposed to think of before anything else, because if the hospital isn’t open, it really doesn’t matter how good the patient’s outcomes are, does it Bob?”

For a moment, they just stood in silence, staring at each other. Then Strickland smirked. 

“Does it Bob?

Dimitri sighed. 

“No, sir.”

“Alright,” Strickland said, nodding. “Now, having said that, I’m gonna be frank with you. I didn’t want to bring you in for this. I’ve been laying people off left and right since I got here because the Board is breathing down my neck to get this budget shit under control. You coming here from across the country, probably wanting to do this stuff you do. It’s not gonna fly here. We don’t have the resources.”

Dimitri bristled. 

“Then why fly me out?”

“Well, let’s just say that wasn’t my doing. Some of the doctor’s moved faster than I could, and got you here without my knowledge beforehand. That company that burned down is a big deal around here, and the Board probably wouldn’t like it if I cancelled you coming. Would look bad on the hospital. Like we didn’t care about the poor suckers who got hurt,” Strickland explained. “But, experimental shit or not, you’re still one of the best in the country when it comes to severe burns. I’m sure, since you’re here, you can figure out how to treat him using more… conservative methods.”

And before Dimitri could get another word in, Strickland straightened up and clapped him on the shoulder. His soulless smiled returned.

“You understand where I’m coming from Bob. It’s all just business. That’s all healthcare is, isn’t it, Bob? A business? Now let’s find us a nice nurse and get you down to look at that poor son of a bitch.”

Dimitri said nothing as Strickland turned him towards the door. Within seconds, a nurse had appeared in the hall and swept him down the stairs and into the Intensive Care Unit.


	3. Chapter 3

“And knowing him, I could get up there and dance a jig naked, holding a tray full of steaks, and he’d just say he’s missing the game. I tell ya, hunny, it doesn’t matter who’s playing. As long as there’s a sport on television, he’ll watch it,” Zelda said, shaking her head as she Elisa sat at a table in the hospital cafeteria. 

Elisa smiled as she took the last bites of her sandwich. Once she was done, she glanced at her watch. She made eye contact with Zelda and then tapped it.

“Yeah me too,” Zelda sighed. “I just feel like I never see you anymore. Being a nurse pays better than the pharmacy, but not much else is better. Imagine how much I complained about standing up for eight hours five days a week and then double it, and that’s what it’s like to stand up for twelve hours three days a week.”

Elisa chuckled silently. Zelda chuckled too for a moment before she frowned. 

“Everything been going well back there? Yolanda treatin’ you right?”

Elisa shrugged. 

“Well there haven’t been anymore incidents have there?”

Elisa shook her head as she started gathering up her trash. Zelda nodded, but still considered Elisa suspiciously as she followed her lead. 

The incident Zelda referred to was one that had happened shortly before she had left the pharmacy to be an LPN following her completion of the classes she had been taking. 

Elisa had mixed up two medicines in the pharmacy and Yolanda had caught the mistake. Realistically, it wasn’t that bad of a mistake and it  _ had  _ been caught, but Yolanda made a scene. She had chewed Elisa out in front of the entire pharmacy staff, and had finished her rant with “it is just such a stupid mistake. I don’t know how you could be so dumb.”

Neither Yolanda nor Zelda had caught the grimace that passed over Elisa’s face at the last word, and things went back to normal. Elisa had tried to tell herself Yolanda wasn’t trying to use it as a slur and was simply using it as slang had adopted it, to mean stupid (which really didn’t make her feel any better). 

She was actually starting to believe the lie until she was making her rounds and saw a man that looked very much like an abusive foster parent she had had as a child and broke down. Zelda, luckily, had found her in an empty patient’s room and both finished her round and swiftly filed a complaint with HR on her behalf. 

Elisa had hoped at the very least for an apology, but Yolanda denied having meant offense by it and refused to apologize. Since then, she had barely spoken a word to Elisa except for what was absolutely necessary.

Zelda said goodbye and turned right down the hallway back to the nurse’s station as Elisa turned left towards the pharmacy.

She refilled her cart and went back out into the hospital.

As she made her way back into the ICU, she saw a nurse from upstairs leading a balding man in a white coat towards the bed of the burn patient. Elisa watched them pull back the curtain for a moment and step inside before she turned the cart away and started at the far end.

About ten minutes later, she was back to the burn victim’s bed. Carefully, she pulled back the curtain and slipped inside. 

The doctor and the nurse barely noticed her enter as they were observing the patient on the bed closely. 

“The subject has received substantial second  and third degree burns to both legs and arms. Some third degree burns were found on the chest and abdomen. Subject is currently unresponsive due to pain control and sedation.”

Anger started bubbling in Elisa’s chest. 

The way they spoke about this man. Calling him ‘the subject’ like he was nothing but a lab rat. Like he wasn’t even human. 

His name was right there in front of them on the chart! Hell, even calling him ‘the patient’ as better than that. What if he was awake? What if he could hear the doctor talking? What would he think? 

She had spent so much of her life being talked about as if she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. 

There was a crash as a clipboard dropped to the ground. 

The doctor and nurse both snapped around to look at her, though she was staring at the fallen chart, not sure what happened. Just a moment ago it had been in her hand.

It was then that she realized her hands were up at chest level. She had been signing the entire time.

“Who is this? Who are you?” the doctor said, looking between the nurse and Elisa. 

“She’s from the pharmacy. Just here to deliver meds,” the nurse said, giving Elisa pointed eye contact. 

“Ah,” Dimitri said, nodding as he turned back to the bed.

“So what is you plan for treatment?” the nurse asked Dimitri. 

“I was told to treat him conservatively, but given the extensive nature of his injuries, I am unsure how to proceed.”

Anger stirred in her chest again as she they ignored her, but she just picked up her clipboard from the floor and started taking out the correct medications. She tapped the cart slightly and the doctor turned back to her. 

She held out the medications. He nodded curtly and took them from her, swapping them out for his chart, which she signed and passed back. 

Elisa turned back to her cart. 

“Oh. Hold on.”

Elisa turned back as he pulled out his prescription pad. Her heart sank a little as he scribbled something and handed it to her. 

“Please take this to be filled.”

Elisa nodded as she took the paper from him. She tucked the paper in the cart and turned to leave. 

“Perhaps we should prep him for surgery? Normally, victims with this level of trauma respond best to skin grafts,” she heard the nurse say to the doctor. 

“We cannot perform surgery under the Chief of Medicine’s orders,” she heard the doctor say, a tone of sadness and frustration in his voice. “Financial restraints.”

Elisa continued pushing the cart out from behind the curtain, considering the curious thing the an had just said. 

Everyone knew that Occam as under strict budget lockdown.The new Chief of Medicine had been around for less than a month, but had already made his mark on the hospital. So far thirty-one providers and staff had been fired since he had been brought in.

She and Zelda had been among the few to recognize a strange pattern- every single person who had been fired was part of a minority. Though, of course, that was  _ illegal _ , there no doubt had been suspicious circumstances in the recent firings that made some raise an eyebrow. 

The head of cardiology who had given the hospital forty years, who happened to be black,  was forced into an early retirement. The radiology department “downsized due to budget constraints”, though the only person fire was openly gay. The white woman who had previously been Chief of Surgery, the Latino cafeteria worker… the list went on and one. Left and right, it seemed the only people getting cut were those who looked and lived very unlike the white male Chief of Medicine.

She and Zelda both wondered (to themselves) if they would find their way onto the chopping block. 

Not that they could prove discrimination if they did. He had done a fantastic job of providing very convincing numbers that backed up every decision. It had left them feeling that that every step they took in the hospital could be their last. 

Elisa finished her round in the ICU just as the sun started to peek up from the front windows. She replaced the cart in the pharmacy, scanned in the prescription given to her on her rounds, and finished up a few last minute fills as the daytime techs started coming in. 

She clocked out and headed for the locker room. She changed, tossing her dirty scrubs into her bag unceremoniously. She made one last stop to pick up something from the outpatient pharmacy as her phone buzzed in her pocket.

[From: Giles. Sent: just now]:  _ Your Uber driver is here for you. _

Elisa smirked as she stepped out of the double doors to see Giles sitting in his blue van by the curb.

_ Do you have to say that  _ every _ time you come pick me up _ ? 

“What? I think it’s funny,” he said as she climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Did you get my meds for me?”

Elisa nodded as she pulled the seatbelt across her chest. Her body suddenly felt very tired, though her mind was wide awake.

“I just brought a man here a few hours ago. Couldn’t sleep because Thor puked in my bed sheets again and I used so much air freshener after I cleaned up that I got a headache, so I got out the phone and looked at what jobs I could do. He was a nice fellow. I think he was a doctor.”

Giles continued to prattle on as he put the van into gear and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Elisa leaned her head against the window, the glass cool against her forehead. 

As she watched the sunrise, she thought of how the sun made the buildings look like they were on fire. With a jolt, she thought of the patient Charlie, alone in the bed. 

Would they take care of him while she was gone? Would he wake up by the time she returned later? Were his wounds bad enough for him to actually die?

She sighed, her mind only just noticing Giles’ route this morning was suspiciously similar to the one he took to get to that God-awful pie place. But she didn’t linger on that for long.

She could only think of poor Charlie. Almost eight hours since first seeing him had done little to abate the strong caring instincts that had stirred within her. 

Her eyes closed shut as she started to imagine herself as the Chief of Medicine. Everyone around her was paying attention to her fast-moving hands with rapt attention as she gave them directions on how to care for the patient. The man was to go into surgery right now, at no cost to him. The hospital would absorb the cost through a unique and intricate financial plan she alone knew how to make. 

She smiled to herself as she imagined the man waking up, alive and well thanks to her, and thanking her profusely for her care. 

_ It’s not problem _ , she would sign sincerely.  _ I’m just happy that I could help. _


	4. Chapter 4

She was floating. Her robe and nightdress fluttered around her as the water muffled all sound. Around her, her furniture floated gently through the room. The only light was from her lamp that floated gently over her side table.

She felt calm, secure, within water. Rainy days, swimming pools, baths. Things always felt better within water. 

But the scene started to change. It was as if someone pulled a plug to drain the water in the room. 

Slowly, it descended, as did she. Water was replaced by fire. 

Suddenly, she was pinned underneath a bookshelf in a burning building. Outside the room she was trapped in, she could hear the firefighters calling out, asking if anyone else needed help. 

She struggled fruitlessly at the wood that held her down. Once or twice she even tried to scream, but barely any, if any, sound came out. 

She could hear an alarm going off as the flames got closer and closer to her. 

It was almost as if she could  _ feel  _ the alarm going off. Like it was so powerful it made the room shake.

Elisa blinked awake. 

The alarm on her phone was going off on the table next to her. She lifted a hand to tap the screen silencing the alarm and the vibration.

She turned over to lay flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

Was that how it had been like for Charlie? Surely, he had been able to call for help. Or had his lungs been damaged too much by the smoke? Had he been unconscious when they found him?

Elisa considered these questions for a moment before getting up.

Eggs boiling in the water, she set a timer on her phone and made her way to the bathtub. While she went through the motions of her daily ritual, she couldn’t keep the man in the bed out of her mind. 

Not like  _ that.  _

Just that she had been unable to get him out of her mind  _ at all _ . Not even her subconscious could shake him. 

After she got dressed and made her lunch, she made her way over to Giles’ apartment. The door stood slightly cracked and she could smell turpentine from the hallway.

He was at his desk working when she entered.

“That fire was on the news,” he said, not turning around. “Said three people died and many more were injured. They’re still trying to put out some of it. But you probably knew that, didn’t you?”

Elisa nodded as he turned to face her. She set down the plate she was carrying on the coffee table in front of him.

_ Have you taken your pill yet? _

“Not yet. I was busy with this and hadn’t gotten around to making a sandwich yet. Because the nighttime one is the one I’m supposed to eat with, yes?”

Elisa let out a sigh as she raised her hands.

_ You have to take them at the SAME TIME every day. You can’t wait on me- _

“I was going to make my own sandwich, I just got distracted,” Giles said defensively. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. God. Calm down. Look. I’ll take it now.”

Giles rose from his chair, muttering slightly under his breath, as he went to fetch his pills. Elisa’s phone buzzed in her pocket, but it was just a weather alert ( _ partly cloudy with chance of rain later). _

As she heard him open the pill bottle, she considered how Giles’ taking pills was the biggest reason she had a cell phone in the first place.

Telephones had never been of much use to her. Not even a TTY system, a video system where she could sign to an interpreter who would then interpret what she was signing to the caller on the other end, felt useful, seeing as the only two people she would need to call or who would call her either lived next door or would see her at work. And she had figured that, should Zelda ever be desperate enough to contact her at home, Giles had a phone.

But about a year ago, after being fired from the design firm he worked at, Giles ran out of medication and couldn’t afford more. Less than a week later, he was being admitted to the hospital, a fact Elisa would not have know had she not been  _ working at the hospital at the time _ .

It turned out Giles had had HIV since the early ‘90s, but it was well controlled with his medication. But when he lost his job and subsequently his insurance, it didn’t take long for things to get out of hand.

As she sat at his bedside in the hospital filling out every prescription assistance form she could find, her frustration bubbled over and she finally asked him why he didn’t tell her he needed to go to the hospital in the first place. He just answered “how was I supposed to get ahold of you, hunny?”

The next day she went and got a phone, opting to pay a little more for an iPhone solely for the FaceTime feature. She still didn’t use it much, but text messaging was rather nice. 

“There. I ate the sandwich and took the pill. Happy now?” Giles asked, snapping her back to reality. “Oh look. TCM’s playing  _ Fiddler _ .”

Elisa nodded, smiling slightly, as Giles launched into background on the musical and the drama between the original star and director. She listened for a minute before glancing at her watch. 

“You want a ride?”

Elisa shook her head and signed  _ bus _ as she gathered up her things. 

“Okay. Go to work and bother other people about their medicine,” he said, half-jokingly. 

She rolled her eyes, though she was smiling, and gathered her things to leave. A few minutes later she was on the number four bus towards the hospital.

 

Zelda often wondered that, if given the chance to go back and do it over, she would have chosen to become a nurse. 

At the time Occam faced a huge nurse shortage and was willing to pay for the classes it took. Zelda signed up right away. 

She had worried about leaving Elisa behind in the pharmacy, but she figured that with her gone, her position as lead technician would be open for Elisa to fill. That is, if Yolanda would  _ let _ her fill it. (She didn’t, instead opting to promote another tech twice Elisa’s age and half her experience.)

Her feet hurt more now than they did in the pharmacy, and the patients were meaner. Before, she only got flack from the doctors and nurses if she was late on her rounds. Now she got flack from the doctors, nurses, and patients.

Most of all, she missed her time with Elisa. Though Zelda was sure half the time Elisa had completely tuned her out her ramblings, she still felt that she could tell Elisa anything. Her hopes, her dreams. Her fears, her regrets. Elisa listened and made her feel truly important. 

She hoped that Elisa felt she could do the same thing; that Zelda was there to confide in as well, but that didn’t happen as often. She had told her some things, but even having known her for ten years, there was still sometimes a language barrier and it seemed Elisa would rather not share than be misunderstood. 

“Evening Zelda,” Yolanda greeted as Zelda stepped into the locker room. 

“Evening to you too,” Zelda said, her tone cold to remind Yolanda which side her bread was buttered on.

She took a seat on the bench in front of her locker and immediately started pulling at her shoes. 

They wouldn’t last long, unlike Elisa’s. The woman seemed had to have at least three different pairs of nice sneakers for work that she changed intermittently, not to mention the countless other pairs she wore outside of work.

A while ago, Elisa had come in with a brand new pair of bright green Nike sneakers that had to have cost her at least eighty dollars (if not more). Zelda was ready to say something snide about wasting money on shoes, but stopped herself, reminding herself that she could afford to spend money on shoes like that if she didn’t have a husband to feed. And she knew that Elisa would have gladly swapped her entire collection of shoes in a  _ heartbeat  _ if it meant she had a husband or wife to come home to in the morning (the preference of which Zelda never could figure out).

As if on cue, Elisa walked around the corner and sat down a little farther down the bench in front of her own locker. 

“Hey hunny.”

Elisa looked towards Zelda and nodded slightly. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

“Something got you distracted?”

Elisa paused for a moment and then shook her head.

“Mm-hmm,” Zelda said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I think I’ll be seeing you a lot today . I’m covering the ICU again for Loretta, who’s still out sick.”

Elisa nodded again as she pulled on her scrub top. Her blue headband matched today’s pair of sneakers. 

Zelda frowned. 

“You sure you’re okay, hunny?”

Elisa nodded again, though she seemed not to want to look at her as she did so. 

Zelda continued to consider her suspiciously as they made there way out of the locker room together and to the elevators. They parted ways there, one taking the elevator up a floor to the ICU and one taking it down to the pharmacy.

They reconnected not an hour later though, as Elisa appeared in the ICU with a full medicine cart ready for delivery. 

But what struck Zelda as most odd was the moment she saw Elisa enter through the double doors off of the emergency room. 

They had been almost exactly opposite each other, and Zelda had nodded slightly to her as she entered, but Elisa had not even seen her. Instead, she had first parked her cart off to the side and peeked behind the curtain at the far end of the ICU, the opposite of where she was to start. 

Zelda changed the dressing on the woman in bed three, only half paying attention as she waited for Elisa to come back out. 

She did, about five minutes later. Where she had earlier seemed distracted and almost sullen, she was suddenly much happier. As she approached bed one to start her deliveries, she gave Zelda a big grin.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Zelda asked quietly as she took the offered pain medicine for Mr. Sampson in bed two.

Elisa shrugged. 

“Mm-hmmm. And what were you doing over behind Mr. Gutierrez’s curtain?”

_ Nothing _ , Elisa signed quickly.  _ Who _ ?

“Gutierrez. The man they brought in yesterday from the fire. The one who was all bandaged up? Apparently his full name is Charlie Gutierrez. They were able to get ahold of the company and get his personnel file and all that,” Zelda explained as she took out a stethoscope to check her next patient. “Apparently he came alone to the United States from somewhere in South America not too long ago. No family around or anything. Can you imagine, something like this happening to you and having no family around?”

Elisa most definitely  _ could  _ imagine that. 

She thought for a moment to catch Zelda’s eye, to point out what she had said, but she didn’t. Instead, her mind went right back to the man at the end of the ICU (as if it had ever left). 

 

The pair continued their tasks, Zelda checking the vital signs of the patients on her list, occasionally checking sutures or dressing wounds as Elisa matched patients with medicines. 

Following a brief disruption caused by a fault oxygen monitor (Mr. Lyons was actually feeling quite well today), they found their way back towards Charlie’s bed just as he was getting some knew visitors. 

The new Chief of Medicine was leading an older, bald man in a suit towards the curtain. As he brushed the curtain back, Elisa could she the burn specialist Dr. Hoffstetler waiting just inside.

Zelda was called away by another nurse to assist on a patient, which gave Elisa the chance to slip in behind the curtain unnoticed. 

She slid into one of the large folds of the curtain, completely out of sight save for a tiny mesh slit in the curtain that she could observe the men through.

“Is this the one?” the bald man in the suit said approaching the bed. “That’s causing all this hubbub?”

“Yes Dr. Hoyt, this is the one. Bob, did I introduce you to our Board President Dr. Hoyt?” Strickland said as he took his place next to Hoyt. “He’s the one who’s holding us to keep our budget in check.”

“Very nice to meet you sir,” Dimitri said with a slight inclination of his head. From Elisa’s vantage point, she could tell the doctor looked quite uncomfortable and concerned. 

“So what have we got here, son?” Hoyt said as he observed the man on the bed from head to toe.

“A young man, thirty-five years old, with significant burns and trauma to the extremities and torso. Currently, we are controlling his pain as we figure out what next to do with him.”

“You’re the burn man, doctor,” Hoyt said. “What do you think we should do?”

There was a crunch as Strickland bit into the piece of candy he was chewing. 

“Well, sir. Dr. Hoyt, sir,” Dimitri started. “In my opinion, burns such as this would react best to a skin graft. However, due to the extensive damage done, perhaps a better option would be a xenograft. Sir, myself, along with a team from Brazil, have been able to successfully regrow human skin using a collagen scaffold made out of grafted fish skin-”

“Fish skin? Fish skin?” Hoyt laughed. “Are you telling me you want to turn this young man into a fish, Dr. Hoffstetler?”

“No sir. The procedure would not alter his biology in anyway. It would just use the fish skin to grow back healthy cells-”

“And you think we have the money for that?”

“Well, no sir,” Dimitri said faltering. “But it would be a scientific investment that the hospital would make. Invest in the treatment and your staff could publish a paper from it. It would bring prestige. Maybe even grant money-”

The rest of Dimitri’s sentence was cut off by laughter from Hoyt and Strickland. 

“What did I tell you, sir?” Strickland said with his cold smile. “Expensive and experimental.”

“You weren't wrong, son. You weren’t wrong,” Hoyt said, shaking his head slightly. He looked over the chart Strickland handed him. “No insurance? Well that just won’t do now will it.”

He handed Strickland back the clipboard.

“Turf him to County Medical and let them deal with him. And don’t go saying anything to the press or making it public. We don’t want the community jumping down our throats about this.”

Hoyt and Strickland turned to leave when Dimitri suddenly found the voice that had momentarily escaped him.

“Sir, you cannot send him to the county hospital in this condition. He is incredibly medically fragile right now and sending him to a cheaper hospital that very well might not be able to care for him properly could result in infection and death.”

Hoyt turned slowly from the curtain back to face Dimitri.

“Look me in the eye son,” he said sternly. “I am the President of the Board of this Hospital. We oversee all of you to make sure the hospital is being handled well and is able to stay open to the public. Now if you want to make a case on behalf of this man, I’ll hear it. But at the end of the day, it is  _ my damn decision _ what happens. You understand me?”

Dimitri hesitated and then nodded. 

Hoyt and Strickland turned back around and exited out through the curtain, Dimitri following. 

Elisa scrambled out from behind the her hiding place too, and she swore that Dr. Hoffstetler had seen her come out. 

They were going to take him away? This poor, hurt man who had no family around, who was all alone in this terrible hospital? All because they were too concerned about  _ money _ ?

Elisa finished unloading Charlie’s medications from her cart with shaky hands. 

They just couldn’t send him somewhere else. They just couldn’t. 

But what could she do?

Suddenly a thought occurred to her. A ridiculous thought. 

She felt so ridiculous. She didn’t even  _ know  _ this man. He was just stranger in a bed. But he felt so familiar to her. Something about him just… just made her feel like she knew him.

She very cautiously took a seat at the foot of the bed.

A voice in her head tried to remind her that people talked to coma patients all the time. They’d update them on their lives and what was going on. She’d seen it happen all the time. 

But they were  _ speaking _ to their loved ones. And the patients could  _ hear _ it. That she knew. 

She expected he could probably hear what was going on, but his eyes were closed. He couldn’t see her signing to him. 

Should she type it out and have her phone say it? It was an option, but it didn’t feel right. What she wanted to tell him was coming from her heart, and something told her that Siri would probably fuck it up. Plus he was from South America. Would he even understand English?

Elisa bit her lip as she raised her hands. 

_ First of all, I’m sorry. Sorry you’re hurt and sorry that this place hasn’t been nicer to you. I’m sorry that you don’t have anyone to visit you. You deserve better than to be alone. _

Her brow furrowed as she continued.

_ I wish I could do more to help you. There are things that can be done for you. I know there are. I’ve heard them talk about what could be done and I know they won’t do it because they cost money and that’s all they care about. I’m sorry about that too. If I could do more for you, I want you to know that I would. I’ll… try _ .

She hesitated on the last sign, because it felt like a lie. 

She wanted to try to help him  _ so, so  _ badly. But what could she do? She couldn’t afford the bill for the treatment he needed. She couldn’t convince the hospital staff to cover it, or to do something better. She felt useless, and on the minuscule chance he was actually watching and on the even smaller chance that he understood her, she didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep.

“What are you saying to him?” asked a voice from behind her

Immediately, she jumped up from the bed and turned to see who was speaking to her.

It was the balding doctor, the burn specialist from out of town. He was alone, his hands deep in the pockets of his white coat. 

Elisa shook her head quickly. She rubbed the sweat off her palms on the legs of her scrubs, resolutely not looking at him.

“I’ve watched you since he was brought in yesterday. You linger here longer than you do at any of the other patient beds, and you treat seem to treat him with a lot of respect. More so than any of the others. Do you know him?” Dimitri asked. 

Elisa shook her head again. 

“What were you saying to him?” Dimitri repeated. 

Elisa hesitated. He didn’t sound accusatory or angry. Just… curious. 

Slowly, Elisa slid her phone out of her pocket and hit the home screen. She tapped the screen once to open something and began typing. After a moment, she held out the phone for him to view.

_ I was apologizing for how he’s been treated and that no one can seem to do anything for him. _

Dimitri read the sentence several times before handing it back to her. 

“There are things that can be done,” he said in a low voice. “But I am under strict orders not to-“

He was cut off by Elisa nodding seriously. 

_ I know,  _ she signed.  _ I heard _ . 

“Yes well…” Dimitri said with a nod. “Perhaps if he were able to be transferred to another hospital, to one of the Universities here in town I mean... but even that seems out of the realm of possibility. It is costly to transport patients, especially one in critical condition like him. His wounds are substantial and without proper treatment,  _ surgical _ treatment, we very well could get a terrible infection and…”

Dimitri said nothing else. He didn’t need to.

Instead he just turned sharply on his heel and ducked out of the enclosed space. 

Elisa turned back to the man on the bed, tears starting to form in her eyes. 

She wanted to do something,  _ anything _ to help. 

Tears started rolling down her cheek and they wouldn’t seem to stop. 

Off and on for the rest of her shift, every time her mind wandered to him, she found herself incapable of not choking up. 

 

For the next few nights, it passed the same. 

He had not yet been transported away, but it quickly growing dire.  _ Something _ needed to be done, or they’d miss the window in which they would be able to help him. Dr. Hoffstetler seemed to be running out of viable options, and hardly left his side.

For Elisa, every bathroom break, coffee break, even her usual lunch time with Zeldam was forfeited in favor of visiting him. Each time she’d sign something to him or drop off a small handwritten note on his bedside. 

Maybe if the hospital higher-ups saw he was receiving letters from someone, they might treat him better. Or at least they’d consider him a little more human than they seemed to be. 

Half-formed plans flitted in and out of her mind. Ways to save him. Ways to get him out without getting noticed. Ways to get him to safety at the University where he could get skin grafts or fish skin grafts- whatever was needed to get him healthy.

But it was no use. It would be risky to both her job and her freedom to do something like that. 

On the bus ride home four days after Charlie was brought in, Elisa found herself interrupted in her thinking about him by the music coming through her headphones. 

One nice thing about having a smartphone was Spotify. She especially enjoyed their Discover playlists, which had introduced her to many new artists and a lot of good music while still staying within her preferred genres such as Classic Big Band Jazz and Golden Age Musical.

But every so often, a song from a modern jazz musician or a modern musical would find its way onto her playlist, like this one had. 

As she contemplated skipping it to get back to her regular music, it suddenly didn’t seem worth it. It was half over anyways, and not worth wasting a skip on. So instead, she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as she listened to the words. 

_ I know what's right for me _

_ It's the only thing I've ever done _

_ What if I never see _

_ Myself ever be anything more than what I've already become _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ Just one…. _

Elisa’s eyes flew open. 

What was she, really?  _ Who  _ was she? 

If she wanted to do something good, something that meant something in this life, wasn’t this as good a chance as any?

She pulled out her phone and pulled Dr. Hoffstetler on his medical school’s website. It listed a phone number with an area code she didn’t recognize. 

[To Robert Hoffstetler]   _ This is Elisa, the pharmacy tech you were talking to earlier. I have an idea of what to do about the man you’ve been treating. _

She pushed send and then sat back to wait, her heart racing a million miles a minute. 

Was that his right number? Would he respond? Would he get her in trouble?

Just as her heart racing threatened to turn into a full blown panic attack, her phone buzzed. Slowly, breathing deeply, she turned it over to read the message.

[From Robert Hoffstetler. Sent: just now]  _ I’m listening _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo… really long chapter! Getting things really moving. I’m going to start deviating from the timeline of the movie a little more from here on out. Some of the events are still going to happen, just not quite in the same order. 
> 
> A couple things:
> 
>   1. It feels really weird to give fishboi a real name, but Charlie was a given and I felt Gutierrez fit as he was brought from South America. 
>   2. The song she’s listening to on the bus is “Bad Idea” from the musical _Waitress_ with music and lyrics by Sara Bareilles. Absolutely wonderful musical if you’re into that sort of thing. Sara B wrote a glorious score and songs. This one is the first act finale and listening to it since watching TSOW just makes me think of Elisa and the Asset. Also, the song “You Matter to Me” from the show has very OTP vibes, so I’ve been thinking about them while listening to that too.
>   3. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! This AU has been a lot of fun to create so far. It’s definitely one of the most in-depth I’ve done in AU worldbuilding, so I’m glad you guys are enjoying it :)
> 



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I think about this movie constantly, and I've got so many ideas for fics and I'd write more but I've been incredibly busy so this took a backseat. 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and your kudos! I'm so glad this has grabbed (and hopefully held your attention). We're getting a little more AU from here on in because stealing a fishboi from a government lab in 1962 is a lot different than stealing a burn victim from a hospital in 2018 ( I almost put 2017).
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much again! Happy reading!

The last thing he remembered was thinking how stupid it was to never practice fire drills using the fire exit. 

That was why fifty or more men and women were all sprinting towards the one door they always used to come in and out, and completely disregarding two other exits solely meant for this kind of thing. Of course, he had forgotten that too, but he didn’t dwell on that.

He kept running as shouts grew louder, but he was never as graceful on land as he was in water and he hit the ground hard.

The place where he grew up was full of water- rainstorms, rivers, he wasn’t even far from the beach. He had been a champion swimmer in school. He moved easily through the water. Running? Not so much. 

His mother had always joked that he was born in the water, he lived in the water, and he would die in the water, and he had always taken it as just that- a joke. But part of him believed it to be true. Water was his friend and his love, but he knew it could kill him too.

Though right now, he would much prefer drowning to this.

No one hit him as they passed, but no one stopped to help him either. He ducked for cover as smoke surrounded him. He opened his mouth to shout  _ ayudame, por favor ayudame _ , but the smoke had started to fill his lungs and he couldn’t get the words out. He just crouched there, choking on air, as everything faded to black

When he woke up, he was in a very uncomfortable bed. Upon further consideration though, it seemed the bed wasn’t the uncomfortable part, but rather the scratchy bandages that covered most of his body.

Nearby, a woman was having a one-sided conversation with herself, or so he thought. 

He opened his eyes slightly. 

Two women were in the room. One, the one talking, was  a black woman who looked a little older than the other woman, a white woman with shoulder length brown hair.

The woman was talking about him and he could hear everything she said. 

He had a strange relationship with English. He understood it very well, but he couldn’t speak it well. His siblings could do both, and he figured it must have been because he was older when he learned it. When he came to America for work, he found himself in the difficult situation of understanding the language but being unable to speak it back to anyone.

The woman who was not speaking stared at him. She didn’t say anything in reply to the woman talking, but just nodded or shook her head. He suddenly felt quite uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be stared at  _ ever _ , and especially not like this.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours. 

Different people came in and out of the room. Men and women in white coats leaned over him, poking and prodding, speaking of him as if he wasn’t there. Once there was a clatter and when he opened his eyes he saw the quiet woman again. 

He watched as she picked something up off the floor and then fetched something from her cart. To get the doctor’s attention again, she tapped on the metal handle. Why had she not said something to him?

She started coming more and more often. Sometimes, she would just peek in on him. Other times she would linger a little longer and do something small like gently fluff his pillows or carefully straighten out the blanket underneath him. 

Did he know her? He felt like he had to have. Why else would she be so gentle with him? She seemed so... familiar to him, but he knew he would have remembered her face (as had to admit to himself that he found her very cute).

As he grew more and more lucid by the hour, he found himself fully conscious as several men discussed his fate. His eyes still wouldn’t open completely, and he could just barely see who exactly was talking, but he saw  _ her.  _ She was mostly hidden in one of the folds of the curtain.

The “d” word had been thrown around in the men’s discussion. When they left, she ran out of her hiding place, fear and sadness etched on her face. 

He wished against hope that he could reach out to her, to reassure her. He’d be okay. Death didn’t scare him and it shouldn’t scare her. 

But his throat felt hard and immobile. Even if he was able to find the right words in English, he doubted had enough control over his voice to do it. 

He watched as she gently took a seat at the edge of his bed, careful not to bother him. She raised her hands and started moving them in intricate and purposed ways. He had seen people communicate this way before. 

He watched her pour her heart out to him, and wished that he knew her language. If he couldn’t  _ say _ words to her, perhaps he could sign them, like she did.

But he could not. He just lay there, still as death, as she finally lowered her hands. When the burn doctor returned, she and he exchanged a quick conversation before the doctor left as fast as he had come. 

She was alone with him once again. He watched in horror as tears started to fall from her beautiful brown eyes. He longed to reassure her. She had shown him such care and, dare he think it,  _ love _ that seeing her so upset made him ache. 

As she slid out of the curtained-off area, he heard himself make a small noise in protest. It was so small he didn’t even think she could hear it. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay close, to sit next to him and be with him. 

He wanted the chance to get to know her and her language. He wanted to see her smile. 

And for the first time since he had first awoke in the hospital bed, he felt well and truly hopeless.

 

“Get him out? Get him out?” Giles said as he pulled on a coat. “No. Absolutely not.”

_ Why not? _

“Because it’s breaking the rules. Several of them. All the rules. Maybe laws too,” Giles continued. “Aren’t you always talking about some privacy law that could get you fired if you so much as type something wrong?”

_ But he’s alone,  _ Elisa signed.  _ All alone. _

“So what if he’s alone? We’re all alone.”

Giles finished adjusting his coat as he made his way to the door, but just as he went to step outside, Elisa appeared in front of him, signing too fast for him to follow. 

“Calm down, calm down. God, calm down.”

_ Please. You have to help me. _

“Help you risk everything? To save a man who’s going to die anyways?” Giles snapped. “Elisa, this job is all you have.”

  1. _YOU are all I have._ , she signed emphatically. _You and Zelda, and I can’t ask her to do this._



“But you can ask me? You can risk my safety and my freedom for this- this  _ person  _ you don’t even know.”

_ YES _ , Elisa signed. She took a moment and attempted to get control of her breathing.  _ What if it was you? Alone, far from your family. Hurt. The doctors willing to let you die? Wouldn’t you want someone to take care of you?  _

Giles’ brow furrowed more and more the longer he looked into Elisa’s eyes. They were full of tears.

She was thinking of herself, and of him. So long ago they had bonded over their loneliness, their lack of a family. She was thinking of the time he had spent in the hospital, and how she was the only person around to bring him home and take care of him. She was thinking of her own fear of dying and having no one but him and Zelda to miss her.

As he put the pieces together, she waited fon edge for his reaction. The tears in her eyes had already begun to overflow and stream down her cheeks.

“Okay…” Giles said slowly. “If-if I were to agree to this, which I’m  _ not _ saying I am… but if I  _ were _ , how exactly would we go about doing this?”

Elisa’s mouth twitched into a small smile as her shoulders relaxed. She took a few deep breaths. 

_ You know how Uber is a cheaper than an ambulance? _

 

That night, Elisa arrived at the pharmacy earlier than usual. Early enough, in fact, that even Yolanda and the other staff took notice. 

As she prepared her cart, Linda, the elderly technician in charge, approached her.

“Hello, Elisa. I am so sorry to bother you, but could you make this for me? I’m all over the place today and it’s just not working.”

Elisa sighed and stood up from her previous squat. She took the offered prescription. 

It was for a compound medication. It was a simple recipe to follow, but it was time consuming. Crushing the pills, slowly mixing in the liquids to make sure it didn’t get chunky. Usually, she jumped at the chance to make things like this, but not tonight.

She handed the paper back towards Linda and shook her head.

“Oh please? You’re so much better at doing this than me.”

Something nasty and hot prickled in Elisa’s stomach.

Harboring resentment didn’t agree with her, much like bebop music or certain kinds of cheeses. 

She herself had been the clear choice to take Zelda’s job when she transitioned out of the pharmacy, but Yolanda wouldn’t let her. Linda ended up getting the position instead. 

And to her credit, Linda wasn’t happy about it either. She didn’t understand why she had been chosen, and had turned it down several times before they offered her a little bit money per hour and she accepted it. But she was still very underqualified, and often required Elisa to help her with tasks and on occasion do them for her. Which, Elisa realized a few months into this, meant she was effectively doing Linda’s job, but not receiving Linda’s paycheck.

Elisa shook her head again and held the paper out.

“Hey Elisa. Zelda’s here for you,” Yolanda called across the pharmacy.

Elisa said a silent prayer of thanks and pushed the paper into Linda’s hand before escaping out of the pharmacy to where Zelda waited.

Immediately, Elisa knew something was wrong. 

Zelda’s eyes were full of sadness and trepidation. Before Elisa could raise her hands to sign anything, Zelda took one in her own and patted it gently. 

“Hi hunny,” she greeted quietly. 

_ What’s wrong? _ Elisa signed, relieved the sign could be done one-handed, as Zelda still held her other one. 

“Hunny, I was just up in the ICU, and your friend,” Zelda said slowly. “The one you like to check on?”

Elisa nodded her on.

“Well I saw that burn doctor, Dr. Hoffstetler I think his name is… Well I saw him go into the, behind the curtain, and he...” A tear escaped from the corner of Zelda’s eye. “He pulled a sheet over his head. The man in the bed. He… he died.”

Elisa stared. Zelda squeezed her hand. 

“I don’t think you really knew him, but I know you seemed to care for him. I saw the little notes you left near his bed, and I know you liked to pop in from time to time. Even if you don’t know him, you showed him a lot of respect. I don’t know if he was awake at all while he was here, but I’m sure if he was he would certainly appreciate it. God knows the rest of us could learn about bedside manner from you.”

Elisa looked down at the floor, so as not to make eye contact with Zelda. Zelda sensed her sadness, and gently patted her hand once more.

“I just wanted to be the person to tell you. I saw them taking him down towards the morgue. So I think if you want to say goodbye, you could find him there.”

Elisa nodded a little, still looking down. She raised a hand, and for a moment, Zelda expected a signed response, but instead she just rubbed a finger gently back and forth across her chin. 

Zelda held her hand for a moment more and then squeezed it and let go.

“I’ve gotta get back down there. But if you need anything, just text me and I’ll come find you, okay?”

Elisa nodded again, signed a quick  _ thank you _ , and turned away. She ducked past the pharmacy and down an empty-ish hall nearby. Zelda decided to leave her be, and turned back towards the elevator. 

Around the corner, Elisa leaned back against the wall. She took a deep breath in and let it out. 

For a moment she just stood there breathing, before rubbing her hands over her face and letting out a sigh. 

She slid her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out her phone. She opened it up and started typing out a message.

[To: Robert Hoffstetler]  _ Everything is going according to plan _


End file.
